


avec un cœur innocent

by roseisreturning



Series: chick habit [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseisreturning/pseuds/roseisreturning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The next time you see Delphine Cormier, she cannot see you. She is beautiful. And she is dead. And you cannot stop thinking about that last afternoon when you were royalty and so was she and you kissed her because that was what you were supposed to do. You could kiss her again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	avec un cœur innocent

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: death, food, sex mention

Your first crush is French and blonde and an Eskimo Pie away from being your best friend before you kill her dad.

You don’t know what you’re doing when you kill him. You just want your mom to live. So you touch her wrist, and she comes back. A minute later, Delphine’s father drops dead. You know it’s your fault. You can’t apologize.

She and her mother go back to Paris that summer. Yours dies that night, which is predictable and horrible and makes you wish you could just be  _normal_.

You can’t be.

The next time you see Delphine Cormier, she cannot see you.

She is beautiful. And she is dead. And you cannot stop thinking about that last afternoon when you were royalty and so was she and you kissed her because that was what you were supposed to do.

You could kiss her again.

But you’re not here for symmetry or kissing dead girls. You’re here to solve her murder. Beth is. She would be. If you hadn’t made her wait outside.

Maybe she could have stopped you from what you do next.

You touch her cheek.

"Cosima?" Delphine is smiling. "I was hoping to see you, are you—?"

"You’re dead." You can hear her start to say something, but you can’t bear to let her finish. "It would really help if you’ll tell me who killed you."

"No, ah, it was back, um, back in the lab, I—" She doesn't meet your eyes. "I made a stupid mistake."

"What happened?"

"I was preoccupied," she says.

"How? I'm sorry. This is invasive, um, if you could just tell me--"

Delphine’s voice is soft, but you can’t bring yourself to talk over her. “I had a crush on you.”

"Yeah?"

She nods.

"Me too. I mean, obvs. The… the princess thing wasn’t really an accident."

Delphine is laughing. You have ten seconds.

The words come out of your mouth without you wanting them to. “What if you didn’t have to be dead?”

"Can I?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Yes."

"You wanna live?"

"Yes."

"Three seconds."

"What?"

"Uh, nothing."

Silence.

Fifteen meters from you, Colin drops dead. You know it’s your fault, but you wouldn’t apologize for anything.

You give Delphine your address and go back to meet Beth. “We’ll be out in five,” you say. “Wait behind, okay?”

"Okay." It’s been forty-three seconds. She’s too close.

"And, uh, just… for future reference? I really like you. But… we can’t kiss, okay? Or… touch. At all. Like, literally."

You don’t think she catches the literally part. Her fingertips are millimeters from yours. You back into the door. God. If Beth’s out there… “Even—?”

"Yes. I’m not kidding. No touch. I’ll explain later."

Delphine backs away. When you leave, you barely open the door.

"Well?"

"Um…"

"Niehaus, I swear to god."

"Chill, chill. She’s dead. We’re good."

Beth’s shaking her head, and you’re pretty sure she’s on to you.

"Uh, I gotta get back to work."

You don’t see a slice of pie for the rest of the day, and Delphine is knocking by six.

"Hey. Oh my god, come in, okay? Wait til I’m outta your way. Okay. Fast."

You want to shut the door, but she’s too close to you and too close to the door and too close to forgetting that you can’t be normal.

It didn’t really hit you that she was wearing the same lab coat she died in until you were grateful for it. She slides past you without a second thought, her arm touching yours for onetwothreefour seconds before she realizes.

"Sorry!" she says. "Wait, did you—?"

"Yeah, uh. Not dead. Uh, clothing or whatever is fine. But the whole… skin/skin thing’s still kinda off the table."

"Right."

"Yeah, uh, I wasn’t, like, lying to you or anything."

"No."

"Do you wanna, like, change into something of mine? Sorry, I just… I wouldn’t wanna be stuck… I know I’m like ten feet shorter than you, but I have some sweaters that might fit…? Is that weird? Uh, hey, I’ll just… my closet’s over there, if you wanna check it out or whatever, but if you want me to go pick something up for you—"

"It’s fine," she says. You want to believe her, but you can’t help but feel like this whole waking-the-dead thing creates a pretty shitty power imbalance.

"Hey, uh… I kinda was thinking we should, like, lay low for a while, but… You can’t wear the stuff you died in, and peasant skirts don’t really seem like your thing, and it’s freezing and—"

“Okay.”

“Yeah.” You try to think of something to say before the silence can remind you that you’re just too weird to work. You can’t. (She was dead. You can’t touch. You were best friends. You spend most of your life running a pie-shaped bakery under cheap apartments. She was dead. You can’t touch. You can’t touch. You can't touch.)

"Are you okay?"

“Yeah, yeah. Totally. So, uh, I have sunglasses, maybe ditch the coat… I have a spare if green’s your color… And, uh, this is probably weird, but maybe do something with your hair? Sorry, it’s just, uh, very distinctive. You don't have to, it's just--"

"I know," she says. "Is it... I don't have any money."

"Right. I kinda owe you one, right? So, uh, I'm not, like, rich or anything, so try not to go, like, crazy, but totally, yeah, uh, take as much as you need. I'll bring out my wallet with the other stuff, okay?"

You know that it's kind of up there on the risky activities scale to have a woman who was killed less than a day ago be walking around Papen County like nothing's happened, but you really don't care. You don't want her to feel like she's stuck with you.

When she gets back to your apartment, you realize Delphine's one of those girls who can make half a million outfits from six different items, which sucks for two reasons.

First: It is literally mathematically impossible to be that good at making outfits. Second: This is one of the only things you know about her.

You don't know if she drinks coffee or tea or neither or if she's still a dog person or why she'd come here in the first place.

You don't ask. She's barely taken off yourher coat before she falls asleep.

You end up sleeping at your desk, which kind of makes you think you should have gotten a couch after all.

You start your day with what you're pretty sure would be considered a mild heart attack. You wake up to Delphine's fingertips inches from your shoulder.

"Sorry," she says. "I thought it would be better than being late. Your alarm went off, and you didn't hear me, so I..."

"Uh, yeah, thanks. Just... maybe don't? I could have, like, freaked or something and--I really don't want you to die, okay?"

"Neither do I."

"Right. Uh, do you want anything to eat? I'm gonna get dressed, so, like, if you can think of anything you'd want. Uh, preferably vegetarian. Not that I'm trying to, like, force my beliefs down your throat or anything, just... a couple bad experiences."

Her eyes widen.

"Sorry, uh, too much information, right? Just, uh, toss me the dress, okay?"

She does. You leave. She waits. You change.

"So?" you ask.

"Um, no. I'll get something myself. The place downstairs, I think it had coffee. Unless you'd rather I--"

"I mean, downstairs was kind of the plan."

"You work there?"

"I, uh, own it. Stunner, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't--you don't wanna get away from me, right?"

"No."

"Okay. Um, do you wanna come downstairs? I can bring it up to you if you want? I don't--I don't know what it's like..."

"Haven't you...?" She doesn't finish her question, and you can't blame her. It's fucked up, waking the dead.

"You're the first." (It's a lie. It's the worst lie you've ever told, but you can't imagine telling her the truth.)

"I am?"

Your hand is on the door. "Mhm," you say.

"Why?"

You open the door. You still haven't turned back to her. "Why not?"

"Why not... why not anyone else?"

"I mean, it's kind of a morality thing, right? Playing God or whatever."

"Then why me?"

"Later, okay? I'm sorry. You totally deserve this conversation, but I've gotta get downstairs."

"Can I join you?"

You wonder whether it's still a health code violation if the person in the kitchen only  _used to_  be dead.

"Yeah," you say, like you're not counting the ways this could go wrong (fifty-seven fifty-eight fifty-nine). "Yeah, um, I'd love that, Delphine."

+

You don't realize how much you move your hands when you talk--small circles looking for words and large circles for the big picture and linked to show connection and a thousand other things you've picked up from a thousand other people.

Delphine does. She loves when you talk like this, she tells you. Loves that you're so excited about it all, that for once in her life (she doesn't question it, you notice, that this new life is hers) she's not the only one. You think she says this as a kind of comfort when she tries to create as much of a barrier between you as she can.

"It's actually kind of weird because, like, logically I don't really know where this shit ends. Like, at what point does something become, uh, ineligible, I guess, for... alive-ing."

"What do you know about it?" she asks.

"Not... much. I know that I've always had it, and... I know there are rules. I know that I can't touch you. Or anything I did it to without it dying."

"How?"

Shit.

"Sorry, was that--?"

"No, um, I guess I must have touched some plants or something."

"Mm."

You can't lie to her. She's trusting you to keep her alive, and you never even told her it was your fault. "There's, um... There's one more thing. I... I can't leave anything alive for more than a minute."

"It's been a very long minute."

"Um... if I do, there's kind of consequences? Like... something or someone else would die."

"Who?"

"Just... holy shit, it's... I have to tell you?"

She nods.

"Something of equal value. It's--it's so fucked up, Delphine, but I don't know, it's..."

"Who died for me?"

"The morgue attendant," you say. "His name was Colin?"

"Colin."

Delphine doesn't look at you.

"Hey," you say. "Are you okay?"

She nods.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"It's okay if you're not. I'll believe you if you say you are, but it's cool, okay?"

"Are you?"

"Yeah. No. I'm... I'm never gonna be  _okay_  with it, but I'm okay with it, you know?"

"No."

"Oh. Um, it's kind of weird? Do you want me to see if you can stay at Beth's for a while or something? No, hey, do you wanna stay here? I can find somewhere until--"

"No," she says. "I'm fine."

She isn't fine. There's something hollow about her voice now that you wish you couldn't place.

"Right," you say. "Um, just tell me, okay?"

"I will. I'm going to sleep now, if that's okay? I'm hoping it will, ah...? Clear my head?"

"Yeah," you say, sliding from the edge of your bed. "Your night."

"It's yours."

"If you don't want it--"

Delphine settles back into the mattress.

She said she'd ordered a fix off Amazon. Nothing's come.

You feel like death when she wakes you up, and resolve never to give up your night again. "Cosima?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to work your pie shop today?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Alison will be there, too, of course. Last night was... I don't think it's very.... mm, I don't think it will help to be baking?"

"Thanks."

You don't see her until ten that night.

You sit like you did last night--opposite ends of the bed, a barrier of pillows between you.

"Thank you for telling me," she says.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for taking care of everything today."

"Mmm. Can I sleep here tonight?"

You groan.

"You can too!" she says.

Was she so caught up with the second rule she forgot about the first? "Delphine..."

"No, no. I know. We can set something up."

"You think?"

She nods. "We could try to hang, ah... I'm not sure of the word--"

"Something. Yeah. Would that be safe? Like, just another sheet?"

"Maybe, mm, something plastic? So it's not so much a wall?"

"Yeah, ah, okay. Gotcha. Um, like a tarp? Uh, I don't know if you know what those are? They're kinda sheets of plastic. We could just secure one somehow, right? Um, there's a camping place that should still be open. See ya, okay?"

You can't remembering having ever seen Delphine smiling like she is now. "Ciao."

"Right. Ciao."

It's rainy and cold and almost midnight, and Delphine is laughing when you walk through the door.

"Okay, okay, so I probably look like shit, but check this out. Clear tarp, half price. I'm not saying I'm a god or anything, but I'm pretty much a god."

She nods. "Thank you."

You fall asleep the second you've set everything up, but for once in your life you wish you could have stayed awake.

Two days later, Delphine's Amazon order arrives.

The box sits on the kitchen counter for the rest of the day.

Delphine doesn't mention it. She has taken on an obsession with widening your menu.

"It doesn't have to be crepes, but I know you like the... wordplay? In your names... So, I think you could do something like, ah, _Crepe's Anatomy?"_

"I sell pies, Delphine."

"Please?"

"Maybe. What's in the box?"

She shrugs. "Can we add crepes?" She erases _Newton's Apple_ from the Pie of the Day board and looks back to you. "Orange of Species tomorrow?"

"Sure, yeah."

"To which?"

"Both," you reply, because you are absolutely whipped.

"Perfect."

"So?"

"Hm?"

"What'd you get?"

"Nothing," she says.

"Come on."

"It wasn't, ah... I missed..."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me. Like, I haven't checked my email in about twenty years, so I seriously don't know. If it's personal--"

"I mean, it was--but I was thinking... Do you want to open it?"

You do. Inside of the box is another box. 100 teal gloves. "My head is going way too many places."

"Mm?"

"I mean, you could just really be missing lab work or whatever. Which is fine. But, uh, the last time I saw one of these..."

"Oh!"

"Yeah..."

"Do you...?"

"Do you?"

"It's not what I was thinking."

"Oh my god! Were you thinking we could, like...?" You lock your hands together.

Delphine laughs.

"What?"

"I wasn't thinking quite so... aggressively," she says. "But yes."

"Yeah?" You toss her the box.

"Yes."

You are holding Delphine Cormier's hand for the first time in twenty-one years, that next second, and for the first time in even longer, you forget to be afraid of what could happen if you move just the wrong way.

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to kristen (tumblr user piemakerandbeekeeper) for listening to me talk about this fic even though she's seen exactly one episode of orphan black.


End file.
